“ You’re speaking ill of a Dutchman? This is a new development.”
“ You should check your facts before you taunt me, sir. Your Mr. Minuit was borne on the Rhine in Wesel. That is a far pace from Amsterdam, I do believe.”
“ Wasn’t he working for the Dutch West India Company?”
“ I could work for the emperor of China. Would that give me slanted eyes?”
“ Maybe.”
“ Speak seriously, sir. Minuit went on to establish New Sweden. Do you think a Dutchman would ever be involved in such ridiculousness?”
“ Why is it ridiculous?”
“ Baths at every house! Baths in the middle of winter! If that is not the most foolish race on earth, I am sadly mistaken.”
We will leave the Dutch squire and his wet prejudices briefly to address another injustice, this one leveled against those of van Clynne’s own heritage and, by extension, all who have ever lived on Manhattan island. It concerns the name of the place itself. Now it will be observed that “Manhattan” is an unusual name, one with little precedent in Europe, Asia, or Africa. The thoughtful reader will therefore conclude that it must have originated in America herself, most likely with the original inhabitants. In that, the reader will be largely correct, as the name appears to be an emendation of an Indian word that sounded, to European ears, as “Mana-ha-ta.”
So far, no harm done. But an English writer — nothing less could be expected from such a quarter — early put out the rumor that the original meant “orgy” and so dressed this up with wild explanations — midnight sojourns with men, women and goats the mildest — that the word soon went around that Manhattan was Sodom on the Hudson, a place worthy of a heavenly thunderbolt.
This jealousy dates from the time when the settlement at the base of the island was called New Amsterdam, and the official language Dutch, not English. But the English’s subsequent possession did little to quash the rumor, and throughout the Old World and a great deal of the new, the rumors grew like ragweed. New York is supposed to be the center of wickedness, with not only orgies, but men literally flying hither and thither at a moment’s notice, propelled by the devil underground. It is supposed to be a place where women paint their faces as if they were men, and walk about with pantaloons beneath their dresses, while their husbands communicate through secret stones with their wizardly fellows all across town.
Nothing could be further from the truth. The city Jake and van Clynne were now rapidly approaching was one of the finest in America, with wide, paved streets and a massive skyline three or four stories high. The city’s progressiveness was shown not only by its pavement stones — few if any places in Europe could boast as many paved roads — but by the lamps hanging from its posts.
These had been lit a full hour or more as Jake and van Clynne passed the British artillery encampment above Dove Tavern on the road from King’s Bridge. General Howes’ headquarters in the Beekman Mansion lay ahead, overlooking Turtle Bay.
The baby was near America’s most ignominious defeat the previous fall — but that would be too depressing for our heroes to recall that event at the present.
Jake paused just before the path that ran to the mansion’s front door. He could not see the soldiers who were guarding it, though he knew they would be there.
“ Now, just give him the bullet and be gone,” said Jake.
“ You’re not coming in with me?”
“ I told you, there’s too much chance someone who knows me will see me and ask questions. Besides, it’ll only take you a minute. If there are any generals with Howe, bow to them and quickly take your leave.“
“ I’d sooner kneel to a milk cow.”
“ Don’t do anything to insult them. Act like they’re your superiors.” Jake ignored the Dutchman’s frown. “Give the bullet only to Howe. And if you meet a general named Bacon — run, do not walk, out of the house.”
“ Who is he?”
“ Howe’s intelligence chief and the head of their Secret Department in America. A very nasty breed. Their people tried to kill me on Lake George.”
“ What!”
“ Relax. The assassin was probably assigned by Carleton. Bacon doesn’t know me.”
“ How can you be sure?”
“ One more thing, Claus — if they ask for your signifier, tell them you were robbed along the way.”
“ My signifier?”
“ The messengers carry tokens for identification. Herstraw has a coin, so I assume they’re all using something similar.”
“ What kind of coin?”
“ I didn’t get a good look at it. It doesn’t matter; yours would probably be different.”
“ Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“ It’s nothing. Just say you were robbed. The bullet’s your identification.”
“ Not exactly, though the guards who accompanied van Clynne to the door were impressed by the clipped doubloon he managed to dredge from his stocking at their lieutenant’s third request. The Dutchman whizzed it so quickly beneath the man’s nose when he asked for his sign that it might have seemed like a flash of light — but of course one would expect the squire to be deft with his cash.
Alas, the general was not at his headquarters. According to the lieutenant, he was attending to business at Fort George, and would probably be found in a house on Pearl Street across the way.
Van Clynne expressed sincere regret that he would not leave his message with the lieutenant. He also declined his offer of an escort, and rejoined Jake at the edge of the roadway.
“ It’ll be easier there,” said Jake, starting down the road. “Most likely he has some appointment with his mistress, Mrs. Loring. The guards will be well-liquored in that case, and I doubt they’ll even ask for an identifier.”
“ You may save your assurances for another fool,” said van Clynne. “I have found a Spanish coin that will serve my purpose. Really, I wish you would see to all of the contingencies the next time you involve me in a plot. I am used to maintaining certain standards.”
Jake let van Clynne complain until they reached the point at which Queen Street meets Hanover Square, very close to their destination.
“ Your orders are specific,” he reminded the Dutchman. “No one but General Howe himself. If he’s here for the reason I suspect, he’ll be in a poor mood and anxious to return to his lover. Remember that he issued a similar order to have Herstraw see Burgoyne personally, so stand your ground.”
A Dutchman always stands his ground. Just remember that you’re to help me get mine back at the conclusion of this adventure.”
Van Clynne dismounted and walked forward along Pearl Street. A detachment of foot soldiers from the Thirty-fifth Regiment stood at the end, on special duty guarding Howe’s temporary headquarters. These redcoats were more brown-colored than red, due to the inferior dye used in their jacket’s manufacture — a matter which van Clynne implied could be easily remedied for the right price.
“ Move along, thief,” said their sergeant indignantly.
His honor besmirched, van Clynne demanded to see the general immediately.
“ Which general is that?”
“ General Howe,” retorted the squire, “unless he had gone and gotten himself sacked, as generals are so often in the habit of doing.”
“ And who are you?”
“ You don’t recognize me?
“Recognize you?”
Van Clynne gave out a harrumph that attracted the attention of half the sows running wild in the nearby street.
“ I will have you know, Sergeant, that I have just now come down from Canada on a mission from General Burgoyne — another one who’s always changing posts — and have express orders to deliver a bullet to General Howe.”
